Pecopeco, Ikimasu!
by RedKinoko
Summary: A story about a young girl's venture into the vast world of RO Pecopeco racing. If you think Pecopecos are just a faster way to get from point A to point B, you're dead wrong. [Written with Karasawa Rui as part of Team Kuroko]
1. GateCrasher

**Prologue: Gatecrasher**

_Sixteen parts of alchol._

_Five parts, half-distilled karvodinol._

_Eight parts, Byalan lye._

_Three parts of wild mandragoran extract._

A woman of her late teens sporting flowing blood-red locks, auburn eyes and a pearly visage popped the cork of a vitreous flask containing an azure semiliquid and caught scent from its open top. She poured a few drops into her tongue sticking out of her crimson lips.

"Metanoia, extra strong," she said to herself in a jest of confidence.

The wind going against her picked up, carrying the sound of her environment with it - a deafening crowd and a roaring cacophony of thunderous steps.

"Ladies and Gents, we are now on the final lap the Phracon Cup! And what a fight the racers are putting up!" blared the announcer from the stand, "Horus, Joker Jester and Iron Maiden are inch on inch and we can't be certain of who's going to be taking the prestigous prize for this year!"

It was the event that shook the Comodan islands annually. - The Pecopeco racing world's Phracon cup. At the same time each year, Comodo's wide, dusty roads turn into a battlefield of the fastest birds and riders in the region, each one vying for the prize of one million zenies.

For this race though, the contest winners were already a given. Who would be taking which place however, was of another matter. It was the final lap, the rest of the contenders were lagging at least a fourth of a league behind while the top three seeds were inches away from each other.

The crimson-haired lady wearing traditional Aldebaranian alchemist clothing patted her faded-gold coloured pecopeco. It was an odd looking bird compared to its peers, with a saddle of seamless savage hide and various support bandaging along its joints. It looked as though it had a grand past but showed just as well wrought of the times since past.

"Don't worry Horus, we'll own this race by a mile," said the she-rider as she took out a syringe and began siphoning the liquid out of the flask.

Then, a violent jolt nearly caused Horus to lose proper treading. A pecopeco had come up from behind and was now side-to-side with it.

"Nice try, lady, but this ain't the place for powder-puffers like you," chided the burly rider of the silver-feather pecopeco called Iron Maiden. That said, he pulled the beast's reigns to the far right and violently skirted the girl and her ride dangerously near the inner fence.

"God, I hate stone-age men," retorted the alchemist, "they still think we can't go any faster than laundry work!"

She slipped the syringe into the back of her pecopeco and pressed in the fluid. The pecopeco acknowledged the injection with a bellowing warble and a short boost of uncontrolled speed. She then took out two round sacks with exposed needles at their ends from her bird's numerous leatherette flask holders attacked on its wings and slipped it between the fingers of her left hands.

The alchemist pulled back a bit and let Iron Maiden through and threw the needled sacks into the advancing opponent. They landed in the feathery buttocks of Iron Maiden where they broke and immediately disintegrated. Within a few seconds, Iron Maiden's left hind leg completely froze, causing the bird to fall to its side and collide with the wooden railings.

Soon enough, a mangle of wooden splinters, dust, beast, man and blood was left behind in a cloud of smoke as the alchemist and the multi-coloured Joker Jester one upped the race.

"Ladies and Gents, with the unfortunate accident of Iron Maiden, the race for the gold is now down to two pecopecos!" shouted the announcer. There were no gasps in the audience. Instead, the roaring went a step further as the list of contenders narrowed down from the 'accident'.

"Now that that's taken cared of, shall we go on and grab the win, Horus?" said the alchemist with a smile on her doll-like face. She looked to her side and watched her final opponent carefully.

The Joker Jester - it was another one of the more queer entries of this year's cup. Its masked rider work a jester's clad and neither spoke much nor laughed – a characteristic unbecoming of a clown. The bird looked as though it had been artificially painted with striking colours, perhaps in a fool's attempt to throw off competition in confusion. More notably, since the races began, JJ had been always in second place – always less than half a second slower.

Not much of a challenge, thought Horus's rider. To the alchemist's surprise, her rival rider turned to her and said or at least said what sounded like,

"Look behind."

Just then, a blast followed by audience screams resounded from the audience stands five hundred metres from the racing pecopecos. Out of the flying reeds from the fence came a nightingale-feathered berserk-class pecopeco, ridden but unsaddled. From a frontal view - the alchemist's view, the bird looked as though its claws hardly touched the ground.

And to everybody's view, the blue bird was beginning to catch up.

"What the hell!" shouted the unbelieving alchemist. At that moment, it didn't matter if the entrant was illegal or if her real opponent was Joker Jester. What mattered was, the gatecrasher was going a lot faster than Horus!

The red-haired alchemist composed herself once more and stooped down to reduce her drag. Metanoia was starting to kick in and she was sure that Horus reaction to the chemical was both stable and sound. "We still have this race."

One second later, the alchemist turned to her back and didn't find the intruding bird. It was as though the look-behind fiasco had just been another trick up the playful joker's sleeve.

She swung her face to the right and there it was – her azure nightmare, lightning-quick and winning.

**End of Chapter.**


	2. Luca Brasi

**Chapter 1: Luca Brasi**

"Stop staring and get to work, Luca. I'm not paying you to gawk at the Pecopecos all day." The grizzled stablekeeper all but snarled at the raven-haired Novice who, with bucket of water in one hand and a grooming brush in the other, was staring with open admiration at one of his showpieces. Her dark blue eyes, usually hooded and penetrating underneath the severely-cut bangs of her long, ebony-hued tresses, reminded him more of a child's almost craven gaze at a coveted toy rather than anything else - and this made him smile despite of the fact that they were pressed for time, and he would miss the finals of the Phracon Cup if he stayed any longer.

Then the novice looked at him, all childlike innocence gone from her gaze. The stablekeeper snapped his jaw shut, like a petulant student being silenced by the mere stare of a stern teacher.

"You don't pay me at all," Luca pointed out in a flat monotone. "You keep me around simply because you need someone to watch over the Pecopecos while you bet on the racetrack." She added, her characteristic bluntness making the stablekeeper wince.

"Well...I..." He stumbled. The raven-haired Novice's stare always had an unnerving effect on him. "Anyway, forget about that. Kharthoum needs grooming. We don't know when a buyer would just suddenly step in and look around for a good specimen." He tipped his hat. "I'll be at the finals, see if my pick's even made it to the last lap." The grizzled man let out a guffaw. "Damn racers are getting more and more careless about what happens to other people's rides, much less their own."

"..." Came the novice's spirited reply, still staring at him.

"Okay, okay, I'll be going." The stablekeeper hastened his exit, almost stumbling all over himself. "You don't have to look at me like that, you know."

The stable doors swung closed behind him, punctuated by the sound of a grown man crashing into a pile of metal feed buckets and cursing loudly about it.

"Idiot." Luca said finally, putting the bucket of water down. She waited until she could no longer her the stablekeeper's limping footsteps, and then proceeded to make her rounds with an ease of a regular stablekeep. She knew each and every Pecopeco in the stable, knew them by name, size, color, everything - down to the last detail. One would consider this mastery of the main transport beast of Rune-Midgard uncanny, if one did not consider the passion that drove it.

Luca Brasi had grown up with the feathered beasts. Growing up pretty much as an orphan, she was taken up by a Pecopeco Breeder that worked for the Pronteran Knights - a widower that had not been borne any sons or daughters. Therefore she was not treated as offspring, but rather as a helper. This was fine with the stoic Novice, until the breeder himself died of old age. His stock was sold, and all the profits were given to Luca as her inheritance. Not even shedding a single tear for the man who had taken care of her, she used the money to travel to Comodo - where the _action_ was, as people so quaintly put it. 

Having learned much from the Pecopeco Breeder, she was not prepared for the stark difference of working as a RACE Pecopeco stablekeep. It seemed that there was more to take into consideration - what kind of feeds made the Peco's feet stronger, giving better traction, or what made them lose weight so as they ran lighter - all to gain that edge, that advantage that would get them that coveted trophy, and not to mention the massive purse that came along with it.

She had offered not to be paid for her first job, just lodging and food - which the already shorthanded stablekeep gladly agreed to. After that first meeting, she had then set out to memorize everything there was to know about the Pecopecos in the racing stable.

All of them, fine rides - and each would have made perfect battle steeds if they had been bred for that purpose. But there was one Pecopeco that she took pride in taking care of in the stable itself.

Its - or his - name was Kharthoum. A Berserker-class Pecopeco - which denoted his tendency to go wild, sprinting all-out for the finish with complete disregard to his safety and his rider's (not to mention those in its way). A plumage of the darkest blue offsetted his abnormally-bright crimson eyes - giving rise to rumors that he had been a failed Alchemist's experiment. These Luca brushed off, Kharthoum was just a rare breed that normally took ten years to cultivate, and even more to refine.

Kharthoum was a handful, to put things nicely. His stall had been filthy before Luca arrived, his rampages making it difficult for the stablekeep to clean it. And with this degredation came a sickness that he would have died of, had Luca not intervened in time.

This created a bond between stablekeep and Peco, although sometimes Kharthoum's untamed nature had earned Luca some bruises and wounds of her own. As she came upon his stall, he was unusually docile, his proud beaked head gazing towards the direction of the racetrack.

"I know what you're thinking, Kharthoum, and no, you're not allowed to." Luca said, although the small smile on her lips belied the harshness of her words. "Now, let's see if you've managed to get yourself more injuries for me to treat."

Kharthoum merely squaked, surprisingly unaffected by her examination of him. Finding none, she patted the usually-unruly beast on the head.

"Let's hope somebody'll see through the fact that you look more like a monster than a ride and buy you," She murmured fondly, running her hand across the Pecopeco's silky blue plumage. "They always try to buy the best-looking ones, with no regard to how well they run. It's all looks for them, nothing else." Luca shook her head regretfully. 

Kharthoum gave another squawk.

"Well, time for me to feed you ingrates." Luca said pleasantly as she moved to get out of Kharthoum's stall. "I'll be right back with the feeds in a moment and--"

She was cut off, when the azure Peco suddenly darted forward, clutching her collar with his beak - perching the surprised Novice onto his back just as he burst out of his stall - flinders and wood grain flying everywhere as he did so. The other Pecopecos brayed, as if cheering the dark beast on.

Luca held on as hard as she could as the Pecopeco stormed out of the stable, his claws leaving deep grooves on the hard-packed earth.

They were headed for the racetrack, and it didn't seem that Kharthoum only wanted to watch.


	3. Grudge

**Chapter 2: Grudge**

"Dammit, we will not be humiliated in this run-down tournament!" shouted the redhaired Alchemist as she watched in frustration the overtaking bird. "Give it all you've got, Horus!"

The chemically driven bird's pacing nearly doubled because of the Metanoia but somehow, the improvement paled compared to the godly speed of the azure opponent. Soon enough, Horus was left in a cloud of dust, finishing the final mile a good three seconds later than the blue bird who ended up breaking the tape reserved for the first place.

After breaking the tape, Kharthoum finally screeched to a stop. Amidst the rising dust, a Luca bordering on dazed jumped out of the bird and started chastising the bird, "You should know, Kharthoum, that not all birds have to run to have a use. You do that again and you'll be having a nice spot at my dinner plate."

She then brushed the feathers along the bird's slender neck the same way she did back at the stables. "But, I'd be lying if I say I didn't enjoy that."

Then, the crowds.

Suffice to say, much of the rejoicing went to Luca Brasi and her new ride. The stable girl didn't even realise that she had actually done something significant till the crowds had literally swamped her and the surprisingly docile bird.

"Who are you and what is your bird's name?" ecstatically yelled a reporter at the stable girl.

It was a complete surprise for Luca, who at that time had publicity as the last thing on her mind. 

"Uh.. my name? I am Luca Brasi and this bird," replied the girl in a starkly undertone as she patted the blue-feathered pecopeco, "This bird is Kharthoum!"

In a way, she won that tournament. She received no prize for it but she won something greater - a proof that she was destined for greater things.

"We still won, didn't we?" said the half-shocked, half-delirious Alchemist to her Horus when they arrived at the crowded fields. She was losing herself in a flurry of facts that couldn't have been put more bluntly in her face. She won the cup, but she lost to another bird.

High above the racing grounds, a seasoned half-bald man and a flaxen-haired youth, both wearing worn-out capuchin robes, were wearing smiles on their faces. One could have passed them off as winners of some bet but a second look at the old man's glittering eyes would tell tale that they was after something else.

"That bird and rider, they have the doublestep skill," monotonically commented the old man as he stared at the crowd gathering near Luca.

"Doublestep?" 

The old man pointed at the blue pecopeco and went on to explain, "Doublestep is an intermediate skill that can only be performed when a rider and his bird have completely synchronised their movements to the point that a countermovement from the rider at the very moment the pecopeco's claw touches the ground allows the claws to strike soil with twice the energy and return to the contracted position at twice the speed. More than any chemical, that gives the bird twice the speed than it can normally attain on its own. It's a difficult trick to execute and an even more difficult trick to perform in succession."

The youth turned to the old man. "But it could have been a glitch. How could anybody from this league perform such a move?"

The old man chuckled. "More importantly, doublesteps are usually done for only less than fifty meters to avoid injuring the bird and risking desyncronisation which could slow the bird down drastically. That bird did doublestepping for a good five hundred meters."

And with that said, silence fell once again between the two monkish men who returned to their after-race smirks as they went on with their quiet observations.

Meanwhile, at the less popular end of the finish line, a tournament winner deprived of her victory cheers was brooding over her stolen glory at the pedestal of winners.

"Hey! Over here! Hello? I'm supposed to be the winner of this cup! Take my pictures instead!"

The enigmatic Joker just stood at the second prizewinner's pedestal as the grand prizewinner bobbed up and down in frustration slightly above him.

"I didn't see you breaking the tape in the finish line," interjected the jester in a mocking tone.

This, suffice to say, was enough to get the alchemist all fired up. Nobody makes fun of her - especially when she's at the losing end.

"BUT SHE CHEATED! THAT GIRL JOINED THE RACE DURING THE LAST FIVE MINUTES!" blared the crimson-haired girl, "AND WHAT DO YOU CARE ANYWAY? YOU CANT EVEN BEAT ME!"

Jester looked into the eyes of the Phracon Cup winner and raised his left index finger. A needle still wet with solution perfectly balanced at its tip.

"I wouldn't be too critical of cheaters if I were you. The hiss of a snake often tells a tale that another is nearby."

Cold sweat drops started forming in the alchemist's forehead. "You wouldn't dare..."

Jester turned at the gathering crowd at the far end of the field and replied, "All I'm saying is that what you need between you two is a clean rematch. Just too see who's really faster."

The alchemist looked at the rider of the dark-feathered pecopeco. She then remembered something from the finished race.

"By the way, I've been wanting to ask this since the race, how did you know that that pecopeco was going to come up from ..."

She turned for the answer but found the Jester was gone, leaving on the pedestal a card - a Joker Card.

"A rematch huh?" said the alchemist to herself as she picked up the image of a playful Jester with multicoloured Pecopecos in the background.

The mysterious joker was right; the only way to really know who could have really won was through another match. 

And this time - the alchemist was more than a hundred percent sure of the victor.

**End of Chapter.**

_RK's notes:  
It's time to get technical. Doublestep is loosely based on the same logic as reverse-pendulums on robotic legs IRL. The reverse-pendulums dont exactly speed up the movement of bipedal mobots but they do ensure that the next step of the robot stays parallel to the ground. In theory, if these pendulums swing at the same rate as the stepping of the feet, it can actually aid in the transfer of momentum from the leg to the ground._


End file.
